


Held in its grasp

by rainyday321



Category: Hannibal (TV), Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: Alcoholism, Castration, Derogatory Language, Dysfunctional Relationships, Explicit Language, F/M, Murder, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Stabbing, Suicide, Torture, Violence, Waterboarding, domestic abuse, generally messed up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-05-22 01:52:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6066181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainyday321/pseuds/rainyday321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A woman is kidnapped and forced to carry out missions against her will.</p><p>If Jessica Jones and Hannibal had a hybrid baby that was a bit of a trash fic and angsty this might be the result.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A waking nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> This work is heavily inspired by Hannibal and Jessica Jones but, it is neither. Thank you to the lovely lady proofing my work, you are a gift on earth. I don't shout you out by name because I think it may embarrass you. A big thank you to my lil' sis for the encouragement and for being a wonderful human being. A big hello to my chit chat squad you know who you are. Thank you for reading it.
> 
> “Even if she be not harmed, her heart may fail her in so much and so many horrors; and hereafter she may suffer--both in waking, from her nerves, and in sleep, from her dreams.”  
> ― Bram Stoker, Dracula

“When those who found this skeleton attempted to disengage it from that which it held in its grasp, it crumbled to dust.”   
― [Victor Hugo](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13661.Victor_Hugo)

Chapter One

 A Waking Nightmare

 

She is the first to break the silence: “Why am I here?”

He places his hands on the table and folds them together. “There are things that I want you to do, things that you are uniquely skilled to do.”

She leans slightly forward holding her shaking hands tight to her under the table, in an effort to quell her adrenaline.

“You are a part of an experimental project, and you will do what I tell you to do.”

“You can’t get away with this.”

“Mireille, your parents have passed away. You are an only child with no living relatives and no friends. You’ve been gone for days; no one is looking for you.”

Mireille leans forward and whispers, “Am I your slave?”

“I chose you because you have military experience which means you are organized, skilled and can follow orders. You are highly suggestible and controllable because of what I could get you to do…. You can’t leave.”

She gets up from the table and proceeds to go up the stairs to the room she assumes is hers. As she is walking up the stairs, the gentleman follows a few paces behind.

“Have you given any consideration as to why you’re walking up the stairs instead of heading for the front door?”

She pauses and turns back to him.

Both of her captors, the one on the stairs and the one peeking in from the kitchen, watch passively as she makes a run for the door. She runs downstairs and as she reaches the outside, a mere few paces out the door, she feels a burn in her chest a feeling only comparable to drowning. She gasps for air but none comes in.

The man in the kitchen steps out and stands with the man on the landing at the foot of the stairs. They look on as she passes out in front of them.

It’s the afternoon, she is lying on the bed. The room is plain and bright. They left the window open and the irony is not lost on her as she feels the breeze come in.

The man walks in and in his amusement tells her, “dinner is downstairs and I would also like to continue our conversation when you’re up for it.”

He leans back to speak before leaving the room and states, “I’m pleased that you decided to take initiative to see if my control over you is real. Now that you’ve confirmed it first-hand, our ‘missions’ will be easier to carry out.”

She walks up to his face, “What did you do to me!” She can’t control the shaking nor the tears.

“Hypnotic coercion,” he says half smiling and asks, “are you crying?”

“What does it look like?” She breathes in…and the tears begin to roll down her cheeks. “I am crying out of frustration, impotence and anger, not sadness.”

“Quite unbecoming.”

“Get the FUCK away from me NOW.”

He steps away more entertained than fearful. As he walks out she throws a lamp at the wall just as he passes by barely missing his head.

“I fucking hate you…YOU SICK FUCK!”, She yells as she slams the door shut to continue crying and screaming out as she destroys the room. She drifts into sleep that night in a mixture of sorrow and rage.

The next morning her handler opens the door, looks around the room and tells her, “I love what you’ve done with the place very post-apocalyptic,” laughs and leaves her some clothes.

She takes a shower and puts on the clothes he’s given her: undergarments, jeans, and a long sleeve T. She goes downstairs and sees her handler sitting at the kitchen table while the assistant prepares coffee. He motions to her to help herself. She turns to pour herself some coffee, the assistant nods to her and she glares back.

“Geez, I’m sorry.”

She says, “You will be.”

“Are we in for a show this morning or can we continue the conversation we were having yesterday. Please take a seat…”

“I’d rather stand, please…continue.”

“As I was stating yesterday, you were chosen because you are uniquely qualified. Your military experience, law enforcement background. The nature of the project is that you are given assignments to complete.  I am your point of contact; you are my responsibility. I am your boss. You will receive instructions from me, Benjamin is our entire support crew. Ask me for what you need and I will provide it. In the meantime, feel free to make yourself at home here, as this is now your home.”

He stands up from his seat to leave the room. She says loudly as he’s leaving…

“You don’t need me to murder for you, you have no problem doing that yourself. I think it might ruin your fun if you had me do it for you.”

He turns around, “My dear Mireille, you are mistaken. Having you do as I say, that is my idea of fun.”


	2. Better the Devil you know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introduction to her captors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my sister, I love you very much. Thank you Mama Camel! Thank you Andy, thank you chit chat squad. 
> 
> Many are the things that man seeing must understand. Not seeing, how shall he know what lies in the hand of time to come?
> 
> -SOPHOCLES, Ajax

Chapter Two

 Better the Devil you know

 

Her kidnapper turned handler and his assistant are the only two people in the home with her. It is in a secluded backwoods area one which she deems unnecessary given her recent lack of free will. It is a two-story country cottage in a secluded area. At first glance it surprisingly warm and would appear a family lives there until you notice the details: no pictures, no personal items. The façade of warmth betrayed by inherent impersonality of the place.

The days are long and silent as she feels that any conversation with them is useless.  She’s taken to observing her kidnappers turned handlers, to kill time.

Ben, the assistant is a man of few words, mild mannered. He has never raised his voice to her. He is a slender, white, blue-eyed male at 5’9, in his early thirties. He constantly wears a beanie covering his black hair even when the weather doesn’t call for it. He could easily pass for younger. A beard covers his baby face. He is, she must admit, a very good looking man. There is something odd about him; something that is so off-putting that a person wouldn’t leave their pet alone with him. Despite his mild manners, she knows better than to trust him; he is a willing participant in her captivity, as he was there when they took her.

Her handler, on the other hand is fit, standing tall at 6’. He is older, in his mid-forties. Also a white male, but has dark brown hair and hazel eyes making him rugged in a distinguished way. The fine lines on his face, indicative of experience, only add to his allure. He is beautiful, stern and strong at the same time. You can tell by the way he carries himself that he is arrogant, a person that doesn’t know boundaries because he has never been limited by anything. He enjoys the power he has over her, and, in a subtle way, reminds her of it every day, to put her in her place.

She has tried to make sense of the situation and what is going on with her. Once she realizes that she is going nowhere, she resorts to pushing boundaries to map out the influence on her. She has verified that the doors are open, keys are available. She’s able to walk out of the house, she can linger outside. It is when, she thinks of leaving and acts upon it that she begins to feel the burn in her chest and feels her throat closing up.

Today, they are testing her conditioning and obedience by going grocery shopping. The handler gave her specific instructions regarding the rules when she goes out, “If you try to escape, you endanger those who help you. Mireille, you are well aware of what can happen to you, please be smart.”

It is their first outing, and she immediately goes for the exit as soon as she thinks they aren’t looking. As she stands outside the store, the urge to go back overwhelms her, and the familiar burn in her chest reminds her that her subjugation is real. The circumstances of her acquisition were not good.  She knows that she would be in trouble with the authorities should she decide to involve them.  

She realizes that she is entirely alone, has no place to go; no one can help her.

She walks back in. Her Handler is watching her, was watching her entire deliberation outside of the store. She glares at him and he smiles back saying nothing. She strolls up to Ben and places a dozen eggs in the cart.

The living situation was more a daily exercise in power and her submission to him. Every day she has to have the same conversation with her handler: can she have clothes to wear. This is his gentle reminder of her place. She has the same internal conversation with herself every day; her needs are subject to negotiation. How much was she willing to sacrifice for the sake of her pride?

She’s noticed that despite the circumstances propriety is highly regarded. In an effort to push, she decides to forego the daily clothing request. She saunters to the kitchen in her underwear to pour herself some coffee. Her handler, although self-contained tells her in no uncertain terms not to walk around the house without clothes, she advises that if she had clothes to wear, she wouldn’t walk around in her underwear.

“Furthermore, if you do not give me clothes, I will not shower until you provide them. Heck, I might forego clothing all together. It is ridiculous that after so much time I still have to ask you for clothes everyday as if it is a new concept that I would require clean clothing and underwear.”

“You’ve clearly missed the point. The point is that your life depends on my goodwill-- from the food you eat to the clothes you wear, so, you will ask me for what you need, and I will decide if I deem your request it necessary, or not. The mere act of asking for clothing, on a daily basis, reminds you who is in charge here.”

“I understand the point, and I think now you can understand mine. I can’t leave the house for your little ‘missions’ unless you clothe me. It’s your choice, I really don’t care. You aren’t going to touch me and neither is your little bitch here,” tapping Ben on the shoulder to emphasize her point.

The assistant was looking clear ahead, not at her or him, just, staring out. When he hears the jab directed at him, he looks away mutters to himself, “I didn’t say anything.”  As he’s leaving, she tells him, “that’s your problem baby Ben, you go with the flow, even if it’s incredibly fucked up. Your silence is approval enough.”

The handler goes upstairs and returns to the kitchen and hands her a change of clothes.

He takes notice of her, looks her up and down as if taking the view in. He does it subtly enough, but, she still notices. As he hands her the clothing, she realizes at that moment, that he is attracted to her. Mireille at 5’6, with olive skin, dark brown hair and almond shaped light brown eyes, is racially ambiguous and clearly beautiful.

The notion he is attracted to her makes her simultaneously sick and oddly satisfied. She takes it, this discovery, and is happy for the small victory.

When she returns to the kitchen, she is informed that Ben is running errands. She comes in and sits at her regular spot at the table, where her plate is waiting for her like always. He sits down across from her at the table. We’ve received our first assignment…

_Janine told her, “Mir, he is handsome, looks like he has his shit together. He was super charming when he asked for your number. You cannot be alone all of the time, girl. Give it a chance.”_

_So, she conceded and is now on a date with Henry, a charming professional, no less. She hasn’t started the interrogation yet, and it seems to her that asking what he does for a living off the bat would scream, “I’m gold digger.”  Sitting at a back table at Fortuna, she is obviously nervous, feeling the pressure of Janine’s expectations. When the waiter approaches, she asks for a seven and seven and he eyes her curiously._

_She eyes him back and leans in, “Do you… “(and she whispers)” not drink? Would you prefer if we didn’t?”  He replies, “That’s not it, I was going to order a wine to pair with the meal.”_

_“Oh, you already know what you’re ordering?” _

_“What we’re ordering… and yes I do know.”_

_“You know, for this being a first date, you’re not really trying to make a good impression by ordering for me. You should attempt to hide your crazy until at least a third date.”_

_“Are you hoping for a third?”_

_“Me? Oh no! Just some advice for the future, seems like you need it.”_

_“For a woman claiming to be as repulsed as you are right now, you sure are quite nervous. Hence, your alcoholic-like sprint for a cocktail.”_

_“You charming monster, you.  All you need to do is proposition me after calling me a lush and it is true love for sure. You are such an outrageous asshole. Is this your shtick? You ask a girl out and then neg her. Does it work?”_

_“You tell me. Does it?”_

_“Yes. On girls with no self-esteem, sure it does. But, mister, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”_

_“Am I a dog now?”_

_“Were you ever not?” She stands to leave, “Thank you for the invitation I am leaving now. Enjoy your meal.”_

_He motions to her seat and looks at her genuinely repentant. She looks at him and sees the man she accepted a date with and is drawn to._

_“My apologies I have been unforgivably rude to you. I’ve forgotten how to speak to a lady. Please come back. I promise to behave myself. I will join you in a seven and seven.”_

_She moves toward the seat tentatively and says, “I accept your olive branch.”_

_“Just don’t be an ass, please. Let’s try and salvage the evening.”_

_After their drinks arrive, she excuses herself and goes to the restroom. An excuse to call Janine._

_“Hey Janey.”_

_“Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?”_

_“Yes, I’m still on it. He’s kind of an ass-hat to be honest. He negged me and implied I’m a lush all before the food even got to the table.”_

_“Oh no, sweetie; I’m sorry.”_

_“It’s Ok, at least I’m out of the house. He will be paying for dinner and getting nothing in return. See you at home.”_

_“Ok, I’ll stay up so we can gossip about your shitty date.”_

_“Great, because we have a lot to talk about.”_

_As she comes back to their table, he stands and pulls the seat out for her. As she sits, she feels a sting in her arm. A sting she is familiar with._

_She gazes at him directly, as he sits and asks him, “What did you just inject me with?”_

_“Sodium Amytal.”_

_“Ahhh, oldie but, a goodie.”_

_“This isn’t your first time?”_

_“Nope. Hope it’s not yours.”_

_“No, It’s not. I’m a Clinical Psychiatrist.”_

_“I see; they should have kept your ass in the lab.”_

_“Yet, you’re not running.”_

_“I’d rather be in a public place than run out and let you get your hands on me.”_

_“Smart girl.”_

_“You know your condescension is really pissing me off. Get on with it.”_

She finds that she let her mind wander and was half paying attention, “Do you understand?” She refocuses.

“Yeah I got the finer points Papa Hen; roof top shoot the man; got it. Please don’t get cheap on me and get me a decent rifle.”

She gets up to leave and he asks, “Where are you going. You haven’t even touched your dinner she turns and says, “you know Henry, surprisingly enough talking about killing a guy, scum bag or not messes with my appetite.”


	3. Sharp shooter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She kills time with her sharp words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Mama Camel for being so awesome. Lots of love to my sis Andy! Thank you for being so great, always.  
> Thank you to my girls for encouraging me when I want to cower and hide (Chit Chat Squad WOOT-WOOT)
> 
> Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality  
> \- Edgar Allan Poe

Chapter Three

Sharp shooter

 

“So, is the rooftop thing necessary or are you afraid that I’m going to lose my shit and make a scene?”

Henry eyes her and says, “I’d say it’s a bit of both. You do have a flare for the dramatic, and we need this to look like a professional hit. Do you think you can do that?”

As he asks the question, the tone of his voice goes higher to mock her. Ben hands her the supplies: her rifle and an ear piece equipped with a microphone. 

“If you have me on this rooftop, it is apparent that you think I’m capable. Are you going to babysit me or can I do this alone?”

“Do you want me to hold your hand?”

She replies with flat affect, “How gallant of you to offer me guidance during this momentous occasion.”

“It seems you’re tentative, so I’m going to leave Ben up here with you.”

The look on Ben’s face is a mix of bewilderment and concern.

“Henry, that’s like throwing me in the ocean with a cement block around my ankles. Are you afraid to be up here with me, alone, while I’m holding a big gun?”

“I think we both know you aren’t going to do anything to me, isn’t that right?”

She sucks her teeth at him in response and turns her back to him.

Henry leaves Mireille and Ben on the roof top alone. She will have an hour to prepare before the target leaves the building.

As she is setting up, she whispers into the microphone, “Hey Henry, do you think I have enough time to fuck Benji on the rooftop before the mark comes out? A simple yes or no will suffice. You there?” Mireille gets in position on the ground with the rifle.

Ben, in the meantime watches on and looks out into the skyline.

Once Mireille is done setting up, she slightly turns her head and asks, mockingly, “Enjoying the view Benjamin?” She attempts to stifle her laugh.

He answers, “Yes.” Upon hearing her laugh, he realizes what she was referring to and quickly says, “no.”

“As lovely as the view is,” she pauses, “you’re going to get us spotted please get in position, right next to me. I won’t bite.”

He looks over but not at her. He won’t meet her eyes, but proceeds to get low on the roof and crawl next to her. She looks at him closely.

“What are you doing Benjamin?”

“You just told…”, she interrupts, “No, what are you doing… here, Benjamin.”

“The same as you.”

“Really? Take a good look at me Benjamin. Are we doing the same thing?”

“There’s nothing to say.”

“By that response I know there is a lot to say, but, I also realize that you are a man of few words. Let’s play a game, Benji.”

After a prolonged span of silence, she proposes in an oddly cheerful voice, “Let’s begin! I guess and all you have to do is tell me when I’m wrong.”

He nods slightly so she proceeds. She almost feels sorry for him. Almost.

She begins the game with a cheerful tone, “hmmm…you are very intelligent Benji, genius level smart.”

“Let me guess you were an only child.”

“Your parents were loving.”

“Wrong.”

“OK. I get it. So, I will take it your parents didn’t dote on you and that obviously bothers you,” whispering, “we can talk about parental issues later.”

“Let’s get back on track shall we? You were tested, probably, when you were a boy. Speaking of testing, how did you do on your MMPI?”

He says nothing. She can see him grinding his teeth.  Sensing she struck a nerve, she continues.

“While you are very smart, you are also socially inept. As a child you didn’t have friends. You were as alone then… as you are now.”

“A lot of things can happen to a neglected, lonely child. It’s easy to miss because no one is paying attention.”

She can see his hands in a tight fist, his knuckles are white. Yet, he says nothing.

It is amazing what people will do to a child when they think no one is looking. Whether it be a neglected child or…”

Benjamin adds, “an orphan.”

“Yes Benjamin, an orphan. Don’t worry, I will save you from the indignity of going into childhood issues. Relax, I know that there are things that are best left unsaid.”

She waits for him to relax before she continues; “Are people still complicated for you? They overwhelm you. It’s very difficult to give a person what they want. They want all or nothing.”

“Yes.”

As she is talking to him, she is readying herself as the target is making his way out of the building. She adjusts her position.

She asks, “Have you ever pulled a trigger before?” Knowing that he hasn’t, “you can’t conceptualize murder Benji. Practicing on pets doesn’t do it.”

He looks at her shocked. She raises her hand at him.

“You’ve either done it, or you haven’t. That’s the problem Benji. While you may have the makings of a killer, you lack the guts to pull the trigger. What boggles my mind is that you could stop it – this -- you could try and stop me. Yet, you sit back and do nothing. I’ve basically dissected your life humiliating you, you say nothing.”

He looks towards her, not in her eyes but in her direction, as if he’s confirming he’s heard her.

“Despite what Henry may have said our mission is not noble, there is no romanticizing what we’re doing. You are faced with the worst humanity has to offer, and it’s not the people we are eliminating. It’s us; we are toxic.”

She looks through the scope; the mark is in her crosshairs as he’s walking to his vehicle.

“What’s the deal with you and Henry anyway? Is he a father figure?”

He swallows hard, and she can see it.

“He plays us like pawns, Benjamin. Whatever support you think you’re getting from him is false. He is a narcissist incapable of forming attachments and having meaningful relationships. He doesn’t need anyone. It would do you well to realize this.”

She shoots, hitting the mark in the neck.

“Done, Henry.”

She starts to get up and says, “Benjamin, you are magnificent -- a bit awkward and fragile but, beautiful.”

She starts to pick up to make a quick exit and meet Henry in the van. When she gets into the van Henry looks pleased. He’s undoubtedly been listening to her grill Ben for the past hour.

“Thank you for the pound of flesh Henry, it was most entertaining. Perhaps you should offer yourself up on the chopping block next time… The boy has more balls than you. You fucking coward.”


	4. Wounds that don't heal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The jobs begin to take their toll mentally and physically on her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my family. Mama Camel thank you, I don't know why you do it but you do and I'm so grateful for it. Chit chatters I hope to be half as cool as you all one day. Andy, kindness incarnate. Thank you!!
> 
> “There are some wounds that one can heal only by deepening them and making them worse.”  
> ― Villiers de L'Isle-Adam

Chapter Four

Wounds that don't heal

 

She’s taken to drinking at night; it helps her sleep. She is haunted by the same recurring dream-- it’s more like a persistent memory. She’s holding Janine in her arms as she is bleeding out from the wound in her throat. She’s trying to stop the bleeding, putting pressure on the wound.  Janine’s eyes looking up to her and all she can do is say, “I’m sorry. It’s my fault, I’m sorry.” Ben pulls her away, and she has to watch Janine die alone in a pool of her own blood. Mireille wakes and finds that she is crying and wonders if they can hear her wailing in her sleep.

Not long after she completes her second mission and third mission… with every assignment her drinking, smoking and general self-loathing increase.

She had a rule to make it quick and painless if possible.

If they are particularly nasty, she makes more of an effort-- on their dispatch. There’s #12 Jim, an older man who runs a strip club as a front. The waitresses never stay long and the reason was that Jimmy thinks it was acceptable work place behavior to mistreat and grope them. He’s groped Mireille and treated her like a whore in front everyone. He struck her in the face when she said “what,” instead of “Yes, sir.”

So, she waits for him to leave work. She takes her time bashing his head in with an aluminum bat. Not satisfied until the blood splatter reflected a Jackson Pollock. Throughout the attack she’s numb… no expression at all. She smiles only once, when she looked at handy work admiring what she’s done. Due to the sheer force of the attack he has to be identified by dental records.

As she walks through the door Henry sees her and the bruise on her face. She turns her face away when he tries to get a better look at her.

He looks at her sternly, “let me see.”

She turns slowly towards him to let him see the bruise on her cheekbone. He winces just looking at it. She feels uncomfortable: she can take his sarcasm, ridicule and mind games but, not his compassion.

She tries to move away and says, “It’s nothing.” 

He holds her in place and tells her, “it will be worse if we don’t put something on it.”

They go into the kitchen, and she looks at him incredulously. He grabs a stick of butter, a knife, a dish and some salt. He goes to the sink and washes his hands thoroughly. He pours some salt into the dish then cuts into the stick of butter cutting two pats. He then mixes them together making a paste.

He warns her, “ this is going to hurt.”

"Thanks for the warning."

He takes the butter and salt mixture on his finger tips and begins to put it on her face gently. He is very careful to not get it into her eyes. He explains, “The butter is high in phosphates it helps with the bruising and the salt is antibacterial in case there are cuts on the skin.”

She looks at him; she looks right through him to his core. Trying to make sense of the man in front of her. How could he be awful and yet so tender? She only moves her eyes away from him when his thumb brushes against her cheek, his finger lingering too long on her skin. He looks her in the eye and it feels like an intrusion. She can’t explain the unease she felt, she walks away to end their proximity. She pours herself a glass of Wild Turkey and goes up stairs.

Once in her room she gulps down the Bourbon gratefully and tells herself, “get a fucking grip Mireille.” She is disgusted with herself.

_“He is cute though Mireille, don’t deny it.”_

_“Yes, but he’s a sick fuck sociopath. Honey, he’s making me kill people for a living. Come on girl, that’s fucked.”_

_“Ah, you’re a sick fuck too sweetie. You always were.”_

_“Tell me about it. I have fucked up Stockholm Syndrome I could at least like the odd one; he’s nicer. Janey, why did you put up with my crazy?”_

_“Sweetie, you realize this is all in your head right? So, I will answer you with your own reasoning. I thought I could fix you; I thought someone like you would be well served by a friend.”_

_“You weren’t just my friend you were my sister…”_

_“Honey, I know. By the way, we both know Ben’s gay so, don’t got there.”_

_“Hey Mir?”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“Take care of yourself.”_


	5. Greatest hits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Methods to the madness of her new occupation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thank you to the people who take their time to read this. Thank you to my family. Thank you Mama Camel you push me to delve deeper and are always encouraging, even when I have a pity party with self doubt. Thank you chit chat squad for being a group of women that I strive to be like one day. Andy, my dear thank you for the friendship it means a lot to me. I love you all very much. 
> 
> “Man is the cruelest animal.”  
> ― Friedrich Nietzsche

Chapter Five

Greatest Hits

 

She’s had a busy year; dispatching was her business and it was good. Due to the close call she had, she decided to get creative and run less of a risk.

There was nothing she could see eye to eye on with Henry and Ben except the importance of planning. Her nature in planning the missions bordered on fastidious because in her mind she was planning a Rube Goldberg, placing each domino at a perfect distance so that, once the chain of events was unleashed, her desired outcome would be the only possible outcome.

Life experience taught her that men react to two things: the damsel in distress and the possibility they are going to get laid. So, she exploits men for both. Thanks to her research, she came across Richard “The Iceman” Kulinski and his innovative uses of cyanide.

Her damsel in distress routine gave her the opportunity to use a tried and true favorite, the cyanide sneeze. She would chat up the men and then sneeze into a handkerchief while spraying them in the face with a nasal spray bottle filled with cyanide. In other cases, she was able to bump into them in crowded places, namely night clubs, and as she bumped into them, injected them with a needle full of cyanide.  Who would ever suspect the drunken party girl? No one. And that was the beauty of it. She was able to stay and make sure the drugs had their intended effect.

These alternatives were particularly useful when they needed to be discrete about the hit. In cases where discretion wasn’t paramount, she opted for a gun. She would pose as a prostitute, stroll up to their car window and shoot them in the head. Fish in a barrel.

The last year had become a blur of faces, the expression on these faces the realization they were meeting their end at her hand. Killing is so easy and satisfying, like hitting a bullseye. It made her hate herself for being so good at something that was ultimately destroying her. She felt powerful and terrified at the same time. She often wondered what kind of person is able to do this as if it were just another office job. What was left of herself? Is there anything left of her or had it drowned in alcohol long ago?

Her latest mission is a typical mob boss: stumpy, bald, old. It turns out he has a weakness for cheap bars. She inserts herself into his life making sure they bump into each other enough to make it seem more than a coincidence.

The older gentleman invites her to his apartment, the one his wife doesn’t know about. The man sits on his couch with his arms spread wide over the tops of the cushions, as if he’s expecting a show. She is happy to oblige and puts on music, Aretha Franklin “Baby I love you.” She walks over to the bar to get the drink she prepared for him (laced with poison, of course) but, he refuses.

*Plan B* Get to the gun in her purse that is on the table behind the couch. She begins to strip gently pulling her dress down until it is completely off, not breaking eye contact with him as she does. Dressed only in her lingerie, she thinks to herself, “what a waste of good lingerie.” She approaches the sofa-- straddles him and leans for a kiss. She puts her arms around his neck, and attempts to open her purse to pull out her gun.

He notices that she’s reaching behind him and pushes her off. As she falls to the floor, he begins to kick her, forcing her into fetal position. Still towering over her, he says, “who the fuck are you and who sent you?”

She starts to laugh, and in frustration he tries to kick her again. She beats him to it… kicks him in the groin, causing him to tumble to the ground. She reaches for her purse pulls out her gun, and points it at him.

“Don’t move and this will be quick.” But he like all the others before him, doesn’t listen; he instead makes a run for the door.

She shoots him in the knee, “I told you not to run.”

She walks slowly towards him as he continues to crawl away from her. She shoots the other knee, “Paulie, how do you feel about a closed casket funeral?”

“You crazy bitch, I will kill you.”

She shoots him in the stomach, “wrong answer Paulie, if you would have behaved, we could have saved ourselves all this unnecessary foolishness, but you didn’t.”

“Please no, no! We can work this out! I’ll pay…” She shoots him midsentence right between the eyes.

She gets her phone from the purse to send a text back home.

“Done.”

Once home she takes a shower and changes clothes. She can still feel pain from Paulie’s kick. She winces as she goes downstairs to get coffee and Henry sees it.

“Let me take a look at that.”

He guides her down the stairs and into his office. She takes notice of his office; she has free reign of the house, but she never goes into his office, despite the fact she’s been invited. She fears that any further conversations with Henry will leave her with more mind traps than what he’s already left there. She avoids being alone with him at all costs.

Due to her (current physical condition) she is hardly in a position to protest when he offers her his medical attention.

“Please allow me to examine you.”

She lifts up her shirt letting him see her.

He tells her, “I need you to take the shirt off. It’s easier for the examination.”

“Where does it hurt?” She scoffs, thinking, “everything hurts.”

He helps her take the shirt off so he can examine her properly. She feels like she’s being looked at under a microscope, nowhere to hide. Her wounds, physical and otherwise, laid out before him.

“It hurts on my right side when I inhale.”  She shivers when he touches her.

“Your hands are cold”.

“My apologies.”

He takes her hand and places it slowly above her head, elevating her arm. He asks her to breathe in as he uses his fingers to look for separation of her ribs.

“What ensnared you tonight?”

“My ego. I should have had the gun closer to me… Paulie kicked me.”

He tells her to exhale and lower her arm; he compares both sides. Henry has her extend her arms over her head as he places his hands on her lower ribs. 

“How could you allow yourself to be so vulnerable?”

“When I reached for the gun, he threw me off his lap. It’s a pretty funny story if I wasn’t on the receiving end.” She starts to laugh and winces in pain again.

She tries to stifle her complaint, but he hears her. She bites down and a metallic taste coats her mouth from her bleeding lip.  Despite the pain she’s in, she can appreciate how gentle he is being with her. This makes her feel uncomfortable as she doesn’t know how to react to this.

“Why were you on his lap?”

She looks at him from the corner of her eye, “why do you think I was on his lap? Service with a smile Henry, send them off happy.” She smiles trying desperately not to laugh.

He continues to feel around gently, “nothing feels broken, but I think you may have a fracture in your lower rib. I will give you pain meds and an ice pack. If you feel difficulty breathing more so than now, please let me know. I think you be healed up in about six weeks.”

He helps her put on her shirt and get off his desk. She holds on to him to steady herself. She looks him in the eye.

“We are a family Mireille. If you need my help, you need only ask.”

“Henry, I know you are waiting for me to ask. I’m not going to. I don’t need your help.”

This time he doesn’t try anything; he stands still letting her use him as support. She walks away from him with a warm feeling of unease.  A distraction from the pain in her ribs. She mutters to herself, “Fuck, I should have said that after he got me back upstairs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you catch the shameless Scorsese references???


	6. Rebellious Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night out at the Opera and not all of the drama is onstage. 
> 
> Anger is a killing thing: it kills the man who angers, for each rage leaves him less than he had been before - it takes something from him.  
> -Louis L'Amour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the usual suspects: My family, Mama Camel, Andy and my chit chat squad (insert kissy face emoji here).
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Chapter Six

Rebellious Bird

 

"To our success.” Papa Hen and baby Ben hold champagne flutes glaring at her to pick her flute up and toast with them. To her, there’s no reason to celebrate but at least there’s booze.

“There’s really no science to it, point and shoot,” she says dead pan as she chugs the champagne.

They are both determined to not let her attitude ruin their good mood; they just glance in her direction and continue to congratulate themselves.

Henry says, “As a treat we are all going out.”

“Are we going to the morgue to appreciate our handy work? Or to attack unsuspecting senior citizens? How about we torture some kittens?”

“No, we’re going to the Opera.”

Ben chimes in, “we are going to see ‘Carmen’ by Bizet.”

She rolls her eyes and says, “I have no dress, plus I hate the opera.” She was lying: she loves the opera. It reminds her of her parents-- they were romantics.

That is of no concern. I procured a dress for you. I’ve placed it in your room.

She goes to her room to see the dress Henry got her and on her bed is the most beautiful dress she’s ever seen. Capped sleeves with beautiful draping, triangular cut outs in the front with draped train in the back, a beautiful rich mustard yellow that goes beautifully with her complexion. Next to the dress she sees that he’s also provided her with jewelry and toiletries to aid her in getting ready.

“Well, this is surprising.”

So she gets ready for the occasion by putting on some make up.  She decides to wear her hair in a low bun, loose on the sides. She puts on the Christian Louboutin cut out tie up Choies shoes Henry picked out for her.

When she goes downstairs, they are already waiting for her. They are dressed in tuxedos. Benjamin shaved off his beard and looks handsome. Henry looks like a suit is his second skin; he looks entirely in his element. She acts as if she doesn’t notice their reaction to her in a dress. She kisses Ben on the cheek and whispers, “you look amazing.” She turns to Henry and thanks him for the dress by kissing him on the cheek.

They arrive at the theater; Henry opens her door, and as she gets out of the car Henry leads her in by placing his hand on the small of her back. Typically, she would glare at him to let him know that contact is not welcome. Oddly enough, she allows herself to be touched, guided by him. The contact feels electric; she’s drawn to him. She’s deeply conflicted by that fact. She lets him lead her up to the box where they are seated. She is between Henry and Benjamin. “Papa Hen and Baby Ben,” she thinks to herself and smirks.

She is completely engrossed in the opera and enjoying herself immensely until the second act. In the second act she can’t help but feel like a traitor. How can she sit here with these men? How can she be enjoying herself? But she is.

Henry points out a man in the audience below and tells her that he is her next assignment. He is different than the others; he is athletic, in his early forties, olive skinned, salt and pepper hair he has light green eyes. She burns with rage inside that she can never see this as anything other than what it really is, work. Nodding in response, holding a fake smile she says, “he’s gorgeous, thank you.” Henry replies, “he’s an arms dealer.” She isn’t sure if he continued talking because at this point her focus is directed elsewhere. It is directed two boxes over at a twenty-something year old young man who has been staring at her, all night. He is there with a girlfriend; she can tell because they are holding hands-- she takes note of the awfully gaudy signet ring on his pinky. Mireille looks him in the eye and smiles at him; he shamelessly smiles back. As the “Toreador song” begins, she whispers to her companions “I’m going out for a cigarette, I’ll be right back,” making a point to look directly at the young man as she is stepping out.

She reaches into her small purse for her cigarette and lighter.

The young man meets up with her, and they proceed to go outside for a smoke which quickly becomes something else. She is drunk with anger, further fueled by the feel of his hands caressing her neck, his lips on hers, the reverberation of the steady beat of the toreador song in the background as if it were encouraging her to continue. For him, this is about passion and for her it is about revenge. She remembers the young lady in the box who had her fingers laced in his and stops cold.  She tells him, “wipe your face before you go back in there,” easily dismissing the young man. She remains outside smoking her cigarette, wondering when the exact moment was she became such a piece of shit.

She is back by “Je vais danser en votre honneur.” She steps into the opera box making a point to leave her lipstick smears. They notice, Henry looks over at her and clears his throat. She leans in and says, “hmmm?” He points at her face.

Satisfied with Henry’s response, she fixes the smear as if she’d just realized it was there. She pretends to be bored by the rest of the function, despite the fact that she is deeply moved and infuriated by Don Jose who gives in to a woman he knows is no good for him. His passion for her devours him and drives him to madness.

As soon as the function is over Henry grabs her by the wrist, dragging her until she catches up to him. As they head out, she tells him sweetly, “Honey, you’re causing a scene, calm down,” and smiles innocently at him. 

No one speaks a word on the car ride home. She feels it is best to get home before she gives him a piece of her mind. As soon as they get home, she breaks the silence by slapping him in the face, “don’t you ever grab me like that again!” 

He grabs her wrist, “you seem to think that you have options as to what happens here. You don’t. You are receptive to courtesy, please do not mistake my courtesy for weakness. You are mine to do with as I choose.”

“I hate you.”

“We are the same you and I, that’s why I chose you. The only difference between us is that I embrace what I am and I accept it. You berate yourself for the delight you get in doing what comes natural to you. You fight so hard to deny yourself. It’s a pity.” She can handle his sadism but not this pity. 

She turns and sucker punches him in the face. He wipes off the blood and laughs wholeheartedly. Genuinely amused by her, enraging her more.  She jumps on top of him and continues to hit. This is the manifestation of rage and frustration; it makes her movements imprecise but effectively painful. She hits him repeatedly until he looks disoriented, she then places her hands on his neck. The whole time he continues to laugh at her.

She cries, “I am not your entertainment, Henry.”

“I would beg to differ, watching you unravel like this is immensely entertaining.”

Her hands tremble with excitement and rage as she increases pressure of her hands around his neck making it impossible for him to answer.

“You are a cancer devouring me from the inside out! You and your fucking head games.  Wind me up and watch me go.  Are you having fun yet? Answer me you sick fuck!”

He wasn’t meant to answer even if he could. In her rage, she intends to kill him. She feels the familiar burn followed by a dark haze coming over her as she begins to choke. She doesn’t stop hurting him; she thinks she can choke him before she passes out. Benjamin and Henry know better. Benjamin reaches for her and manages to get her off Henry. Benjamin cradles her in his arms as if she were a child. He attempts to soothe her as she is losing consciousness. She tries to fight it-to no avail, the room goes black. Benjamin carries her up to her room.

_Haunted by a familiar scene, a confluence of dream and memory of her parents’ funeral. The morning dew on the green grass is all she focuses on; she is with Janey. There they are at nine years of age, holding hands at one of the most devastating events in her life. “Mir, I’m here with you. They are gone but I’m not.”_

_As a tear rolls down her face, “You are gone,” she looks at her and Janey smiles back. “You are gone and I’m alone.”_

_“Mireille, I always tried to save you… it’s your turn to save yourself.”_

She wakes up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat with tears running down her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from lyrics in the Habanera, from the opera Carmen by Georges Bizet.


	7. Venus Flytrap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's starting her next assignment, the man at the Opera. 
> 
>  “God hath given you one face, and you make yourself another.”  
> ― William Shakespeare, Hamlet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the usual suspects. You know who you are.

Chapter Seven

 Venus Flytrap

 

She goes into the kitchen, “good morning.” She kisses Benjamin on the cheek and hugs him from behind as he pours her morning coffee. “Thank you, Benji.”

She sits at the table so Henry can brief her on her next assignment. It is the man in the audience at the Opera, Alex Milas. He travels frequently and is currently in town on business. She is to pose as a call girl. The plan is to meet him, proposition him, and dispatch him.

He is different than the others: younger, well educated. She decides that a chemical cocktail may be ideal in this case. From her research, she knows that he was a smoker, and she knows this is her in.

She wears a red form fitting dress, knee length, plunging neckline, and an open back. Henry gives her a discrete once over, which she notices and takes as approval. She heads to the hotel. As she is sitting at the bar, she sees him walk in. Alex Milas takes notice of the open back of her dress. He sits close to her. She reaches into her purse to pull out her cigarette and is holding up her lighter, when she senses his eyes move towards her mouth. The silence is interrupted when he turns to her and says, “We aren’t allowed to smoke in here.”

She turns towards him, “I wasn’t aware of that. Thank you for letting me know.”

“You’re welcome…”

“Sofia. What’s your name?”

“My name is Alex, nice to meet you.” They shake hands.

“Tell me Alex, did you quit smoking recently?”

“Why would you say that?”

“The way you eyed my cigarettes.”

“Oh, am I that obvious?”

“No, not particularly. I’m just unusually observant. I think of quitting, and then say to myself ‘you’re not a quitter!’ That’s my justification anyway. Why did you quit? General health reasons? I’m sorry I’m being so inquisitive. You probably just wanted to be left alone and have a drink.” She turns in her seat to face forward, no longer looking at him.

“I quit because my wife died of cancer, and I have a little girl to look after. I would like to be around, for her.”

“Well, if there ever was a good reason to quit that would be it.” She raises her Kir Royale to him and takes a small sip.

He looks at her drink and smiles to himself as if it were an inside joke. He finds her drink trashy. He raises his drink to her and also takes a sip.

“Out of curiosity what are you drinking? Is that Pink Champagne?”

She scoffs, “This is not pink champagne, it’s a Kir Royale.”

“What’s it made out of?”

“It does have Champagne, touché… Do you want a sip?”

He eyes her curiously to which she responds whispering, “You need to get closer than that if you want a taste.”

He moves to the seat that was separating them and leans in. He asks, “are you staying here?”

“At the hotel, no. I’m currently working.”                                             

“Oh really, what do you do?”

“Client relations… I charge $800 an hour.”

The look on his face changes; it’s not surprise, but she can see the wheels turning. It’s odd, like a look of consideration but not necessarily aimed towards her. He gets closer and takes a sip.

“It’s _crème de cassis, and champagne.”_

_“It’s good.”_

_“You sound surprised.”_

_“I am.”_

_“I know.”_

_“Another round?”_

_“If you insist. I’m ready to take this upstairs.”_

_“I’d like that.”_

_“I’m sure you will. Let’s go.”_

As they walk out, he places his hand on the small of her back leading her up to his room. As they walk, his hand slides down to rest on her ass. This makes her feel cheap; she is able to conceal her disgust. They head up to his room. Once in the room, he is terribly awkward. She pours him a drink and they start to make small talk about the weather and why he’s in town. As they start to get comfortable with one another, his cell phone rings.

He pulls it out to shut off the ringer when he says, “it’s my daughter I have to take this.”

She turns away, to give him privacy.

“Hello Ay.”

“What’s going on, Bunny? It’s late. Does Grandma know you’re on the phone?”

“I’m sorry you had a bad dream about mom, baby.”

“I’m sorry Mom is not here.”

“You want to come see me?”

“I’ll be back in a few days.”

She knows this is going to take a while and she can’t stomach killing him right after he’s spoken to his daughter.

She writes him a note.

_Some other time._

_Sofia._

And leaves her number on the note. She walks out of the room and pulls out her cell phone. She calls Henry once she’s walked out of the hotel.

“Hey I couldn’t get it done tonight.”

“Why?”

“His daughter called and I’m not going to dispatch him while he’s talking to his daughter.” Her breathing is labored, she can feel anxiety rising.

“What about…”

She interjects, “Listen, it will get done. I’m on the brink of a full-fledged panic attack courtesy of the fucking minefield you left in my brain. I need you to tell me it’s ok.”

“Why would I do that.”

“Because if you don’t I will have an epic fucking freak out in the lobby of the hotel. I may even piss myself, and we’ll blow it. So say it…”

He tells her, “please bring the phone closer to your mouth I want to hear you. I need you to breathe in deeply and exhale. Can you do that for me, Mireille?”

“Yes, but…”

“Do it,” he says sternly.

She inhales deeply and exhales, “I need to hear you say it.”

“My dear Mireille...”  As he says her name, her breathing hitches, and she can’t stop herself from doing it. She knows he’s heard it and knows he is smiling on the other end of the phone.

“Calm yourself. It’s alright. You are doing what you are supposed to. It’ll get done…you’re welcome.”

Once she catches her breath, she says, “you’re the worst!”

“See you at home. Dear.”

The next afternoon she tails Alex to see if this is a situation where she would have to do it remotely. She sees him with his ten-year-old daughter as they are walking out of a museum. His daughter is running ahead of him, excited to get in the car waiting for them. Mireille remembers her father.

Some hours later, Mireille receives a text on her phone from Alex setting a date for the following night. As a result of her tailing him she found out that he’s moved to a more comfortable place with more privacy; she already knows where she’s going.

They meet in a villa; he tells her he’s extended his trip as he has a meeting in a few days. They have dinner and proceed to the living room. They talk about the importance of family. Which leads into the subject of his daughter, Aylen, his ten-year-old daughter, who is now back home with her grandmother, and how hard it was on her when her mother passed away. It almost feels like a proper date.

“How did you get involved with ‘client relations’ anyway.”

“It was unplanned; I fell into it.”

Her phone buzzes, she excuses herself to look at it. The message is from Henry asking for confirmation of task completion. Typically, she doesn’t receive these messages, but she’s been there with Alex for several hours and it is unlike her to stall.

She doesn’t reply to Henry’s text.

“It was a friend checking in on me. I texted that I’m fine. I do this irregularly so they worry.”

“Naturally. Sofia, do you ever think of stopping?”

“I think about it but realize it is not a realistic option for me right now.”

He looks at her with empathy and says, “we won’t do anything if you don’t want to.”

This is the first time in a long time she’s given a choice. He hands her a drink. She takes a sip and leans in to take his hand. She leads him off of the sofa and into the bedroom.

She thinks, “It’s been a while since he’s been with someone since his wife. What if I let him go,” just the thought makes her heart start pounding, and she feels shortness of breath. She dismisses the thought easily.

She starts to undo the buttons on his shirt, and he grabs her by the wrists hard and he says, “No, you first.”

“I am the professional here, you’d be better served by letting me call the shots.”

He grabs her face by her chin, “I am your boss, what I say goes.” He lets go.

She pushes him backward until he’s leaning on the bed. Mireille kisses him tugging on his lower lip, and as she is kissing him, she reaches down into his pants and squeezes his penis, hard. “I can make this very enjoyable, or very painful if that’s what you’re into. I am not into pain. If you touch me like that again you will lose your scrotum. Do we understand each other?”

He nods yes.

She softens her grip on him and focuses on getting him comfortable once again. She’s on top of him on the bed and he rolls over, pinning her under him. He holds her arms up above her head with impressive force. She wraps her legs around him and begins to squeeze him hard until he finally lets her go, before she can reach for the needle she has hidden in her garter, Henry walks into the room.

“Well this is awkward,” she says half smiling. Henry pulls Alex off of her and flings him across the room as if he were a rag doll.

Mireille balances her weight on her elbows and says, “I was on it.”

“It looks like you were right on top of that.”

Mireille stands and starts feeling dizzy. She tries to get her bearings and can’t. The feeling gets worse. As much as she hates it, she’s associated protection and security with Henry. She makes her way over to him and places her hands on his waist grasping onto him. Her voice barely audible, “Henry, he slipped me something.”

Henry looks over at Alex, she says, “I’m not sure, it could have been in the cocktail.”

He pulls out his gun ready to kill Alex and Mireille puts her hands on his shoulders, her right hand reaching to his neck to bring his face down to hers, “keep him alive. Let’s take him home.”

He calls out to Ben who’s been standing in the doorway the entire time. “Ben, help her out to the car. I’ll take care of him.”

As soon as Ben has her in his arms she passes out. He carries her out to the car as if she were his child.

She awakens in her bed and makes it downstairs, where the two men are at the kitchen table. She kisses Ben on the cheek then turns to Henry, “Good morning, did we ever find out what he gave me?”

Ben says, “Rohypnol.  We found some on him and that isn’t all we found.” He points to the case on the counter.

Mireille opens it, “ah, I see.”

“Henry, knocked him out. The crying was just too much.”

As she’s going through the contents of the case she says, “He’s yours to do with as you please. Henry, if I may… we’ve been so stressed lately, I see no reason why we can’t take a leisurely pace on this one.”

Henry smiles.


	8. Torture bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A unique bonding experience.
> 
> Cruelty is a gift humanity has given itself.  
> \- Hannibal (season 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I'm so sorry it took me this long to get this chapter done. Hopefully its worth the wait (hopefully).  
> Thank you to my beta no2camels that is able to make sense of the rubbish I write. Thank you to my family and friends that encourage me to write *coughs* Andy, and talk me down when I'm feeling anxious *staring at you* stag hag along with the village of other people (chit chat squad) that keep me sane on a daily basis. Never an easy task. I love you. 
> 
> If you are reading this bless your kind heart.

Chapter Eight

Torture Bonding

 

They go down to the basement after Mireille’s had her morning coffee.

Alex is bound to a chair with tape on his mouth. Mireille places the case on the floor next to the door and walks over to him.

She pulls the tape off of his mouth, and he starts pleading with her, “Sofia, help me please!”

She replies, “Not the sharpest tool in the shed, are you?”

“You fucking whore.” She mimes the words mockingly then responds by backhanding him in the mouth. She walks away and picks up the case setting it on the table.

“You know Alex, that sounds like you, no pretense there.”

He sees the case and swallows hard.

Henry pulls up a chair and sits across from Alex: “Do you know why you are here Mr. Milas?”

It is here, in this place where Henry and Mireille completely understand each other. A dance where they are completely in sync. She takes a seat on the ground next to Henry and leans into his right leg as he strokes her head.

“I’m being kidnapped.”

Mireille giggles.

“What’s so funny?”

“Mr. Milas, you are very optimistic. You are not being kidnapped, if you were, we wouldn’t show our faces to you. Mireille, my dear please enlighten the man.”

“Mireille? Are you going to kill me?”

“I am not going to kill you now, Alex.”

He struggles to free himself. Henry and Mireille just look on and laugh.

“Look at him go.”

Henry says, “I think he needs to take some time to reflect on what he’s done.”

“I agree, but first…Alex, do you remember what I told you?”

He looks confused.

Henry stands and offers his hand to Mireille, helping her up. She turns towards Alex.

“It doesn’t matter Alex, I’ll remind you.”

She steps up to him and delivers a right cross to the chin, effectively knocking him out.

“Oh shit it worked.” She mutters to herself enthusiastically.

“Henry, there’s something I have to do first, then he’s all yours. Would you like to help me?”

“Of course my dear.”

“Do we have rubber bands?”

He laughs and nods.

\------------------

 

 

“It was a lot easier with help, thank you.”

Taking off his gloves Henry says, “Now, it’s just a matter of waiting.”

“Will it be painful?”

“Yes.”

“Good, I feel like this is something girls should be taught in school, very useful.”

She hangs on to Henry’s back as they walk out of the room. Henry switches off the lights as he locks the door.

“Do we have eyes down there?”

“Yes, we have cameras in the room, and Ben’s watching from his office.”

Several hours later, they walk back into the room and Alex is asleep.

“Henry, I think we are boring him. Perhaps we should wake him up?”

“Get the bucket,” he says smiling.

Mireille dumps a bucket of ice water on Alex’s face.

“Rise and Shine.”

He whimpers in pain and finally is able to say, “what do you want from me?”

“How do you feel Alex?”

“What did you do to me?”

She leans down to look into his eyes.

“What I promised.”

“What…NO!”

“Now do you remember?” She says smiling.

“Mr. Milas, we want to ask you some questions. I urge you to be honest with your answers.”

She crouches down to the ground so she is looking at his face as she asks, “Alex, what were you planning on doing to me?”

“Nothing.”

“Henry, I think it might do him well to stand for a while.”

Henry reaches for rope and makes a knot.

“Remind me never to question your boy scout skills. That is a beautiful noose knot.”

“Noose knot?”

Henry instantly comes up from behind and puts the noose around Alex’s neck and tightens it. He cuts the rope tying Alex to the chair. Though he is still bound to himself with duct tape, arms at his sides above the elbow and his hands tied together in front of him.  His legs are bound together below the knees

Mireille stands in front of him, and leaning in toward his face. “We asked you to be honest, and you weren’t. Now, you’re being punished for it. GET UP.”

She places a metal bucket in front of him, “on it.”

Henry pulls the noose from behind him, wrapping it around the beam in the ceiling while pulling taut, forcing Alex upright.

Alex pleads, “please I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“I’ve taken what I wanted, thank you.”

“Mr. Milas, now is not the time for talking. We gave you the chance, and you blatantly lied. I hope you will heed my advice in the future about being truthful.”

He tightens the noose further making it difficult to understand what Alex is saying because this is not intended to make him talk. This is intended to cause Alex pain.

They leave him, strung up in the room alone, gagging.

Mireille shouts as she’s leaving, “feel free to kick the bucket, should you feel so inclined.”

It’s dinner time when they come back into the room. They place a table in front of him and set up their dinner. 

“Still hanging on I see. Are you hungry, Alex?”

He says something garbled.

“I can’t understand you I guess that means no.”

They eat dinner in front of him ignoring him as if he’s not there. He watches standing on the bucket hanging from his noose, just a step away from certain death. Then, they turn their attention to him.

Mireille says, “I do love dinner and a show. Hey Alex, how are your testicles?”

Alex struggles to make a sound.

Alex says a garbled version of, “fuck you.”

“I can’t understand you, what are you trying to say?”

“Fuck you.”

“You should know Alex, that Henry takes propriety very seriously. As a guest you should mind your manners.”

“You’re sick.”

“Mr. Milas, how terribly unbecoming.”

“BOO Alex, stop being a sour grape. Speaking of which she throws a grape at him.”

He cries.

“Poor baby.”

They take turns throwing grapes at his crotch to watch him flinch and cry.

“Where was all the fight from this morning, Alex?”

He cries, choking on his sobs.

“Mr. Milas, are you thirsty?

“Yes.”

“Mireille, let’s give the man some water.”

They get up from their dinner. Henry proceeds to cut the man down from the noose, not before striking him across the face.

“It would serve you well to mind your manners, Mr. Milas.”

Alex, falls from the bucket to the floor. Mireille takes the bucket to fill it with water.

“You have to earn the water.”

Henry asks him, “What did you intend on doing to Mireille?”

“Nothing.”

“Mr. Milas, well done, you’ve earned some water”

They blindfold him, Henry places a wet rag on his face covering his nose and mouth while Mireille pours large amounts of water onto the rag. They do this in 20 second intervals each time increasing the amount of water they pour over the rag until they can hear the gurgling sounds coming from his throat.

“WHAT WERE YOU GOING TO DO?”

“NOTHING, I SWEAR.”

They give him enough time to catch his breath and relax before they do it again. They do this until Alex is spitting up water close to drowning. Alex is shaking from the adrenaline.

“Do you want this to stop?”

“YES. PLEASE.”

“We are going to ask you questions, can we trust that you will now be truthful.”

“YES.”

“What were you going to do to me?”

“I drugged you. I was going to kill you.”

“Why?”

They give him time to collect himself as he’s out of breath.

She asks again, this time more calmly, “why?”

“I was going to kill you because whores like you disgust me. I was going to kill you because I could.”

Henry removes the blindfold and Mireille asks him, “Did you kill your wife?”

He doesn’t answer but his pupils dilate.

“Why did you kill her?”

“How did you know?”

“I told you, I’m observant, given your violent inclinations… I couldn’t believe a loving widower act. I can believe that you are a murderer who also killed his wife. That is real.”

“Why did you kill her Mr. Milas?”

“She wanted a divorce. Had that happened there would be no husband-wife privilege. She would be forced to testify against me in court, if it ever came to that. I poisoned her slowly. I loved it…watching her die slowly.”

“Thank you for your honesty, hard earned as it was.”

“I won’t tell anyone what you did if you let me go.”

“Oh, I know you won’t, though I am imagining your friends knowing that you were castrated? How embarrassing. You must appreciate the mercy I’ve shown you. I could’ve gone in with a knife and snip snip but no, I’m doing it the humane way, cutting off the blood flow. That’s how it’s done with livestock. You see, I’m being more humane than you intended on being with me.  They are still there, temporarily… You’re welcome.”

“Mireille, let’s give this man a drink

“NO, NO!”

“Mr. Milas, relax yourself. It’s a real drink.”

Henry holds Alex’s head up so he can take a sip of the Bourbon Mireille brings to his lips.

Mireille looks Henry in the eye and says, “Let that sink in.”

“It’s so good.”

“Drink some more.”

“Lay back for a moment get your bearings; Mr. Milas.”

About 20 minutes pass and Henry helps the man stand while still bound.

“We have a proposal for you Mr. Milas: if you are able to make it out of the house in one minute we will let you go.”

“What?”

“Yes, but you have to be fast. Your time starts now.”

Mr. Milas begins to hop earnestly toward the staircase, when he starts to feel dizzy and falls to the floor at the foot of the stairs, his face slamming into the concrete floor.

“What is this?”

“Alex, are you dizzy?”

“Yes.”

“That’s the Rohypnol working.”

“What?”

“Yes, I thought it only fair I surprise you after you tried to surprise me.”

He cries out, “you sick bitch!”

Mireille mocks his hysteria, “Nighty night Alex,” as he passes out.

He passes out moments later.

When he wakes up, he is on a table. He is still tied up.

Alex is in complete hysterics, “WHAT DID YOU DO? I CAN’T MOVE! I’M PARALYZED”

“Henry injected you with a paralyzing agent while you were unconscious. You still have feeling you just can’t move. It’s almost over, Alex.”

“WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?”

“Well that’s a loaded question. Let me try to answer… First off, you are not leaving here alive. As a matter of fact, when we were alone in your villa you were seconds away from getting a lethal cocktail before Henry walked in. I was sent to kill you because you are, for lack of better words, a filthy piece of shit. You see, arms dealing makes you indirectly responsible for many deaths but, add your homicidal tendency to it and that’s a whole other level of responsibility.”

“You knew.”

“Of course I knew about that. We knew all about you.”

“I must admit, you trying to kill me was a surprise, but I’m nothing if not adaptable. You see Alex, you thought you were the wolf in sheep’s clothing, you are not the wolf. I am the wolf; you are merely a lamb.”

“I’ll stop. I promise.”

His eyes move to his right where Mireille is opening up the case.

She walks up to him and grabs his face, “Stop lying. Stop lying to me. We’ve really enjoyed playing with you. Now play time’s over. The line of questioning was purely entertainment for us. You were never going to make it out of here alive.”

“Don’t kill me, please.”

She smiles, “I feel for Aylen, I really do.”

“Don’t you talk about her.”

“Sudden paternal instinct, you should’ve thought of her before you murdered her mother. My gift to her will be that she doesn’t have to grow up with her mother’s murderer.”

She grabs a blade and while pointing the tip up and down his sternum she says, “I wonder if there’s even a heart in that chest. Upon further consideration that’s a moot point.”

Henry says,“I consider him more of a pig than I do a man. I intend on giving you the full pig treatment.”

Henry reaches over from behind her to guide her hands as she plunges Alex’s own knife into his thigh. He screams.

“Please don’t.”

Henry nuzzles into her neck as she says, “Stop being a little bitch, Alex. I’m not killing you Alex, I’m merely measuring the fat.”

She turns to Henry, “how’s he going to behave when you bleed him out?”

“What? Please don’t. Please.”

Blood seeps through his clothing. Tears run down his face.

“Alex, you’re such a good piggy. Will you squeal for me?”

“FUCK YOU.”

“No, Alex I think you can finally appreciate that the one fucked here is you.”

Henry starts guiding her hand and the knife up to Alex’s carotid artery. He presses his body closer to hers. She lingers deliberating and decides to let the knife go.

“I’ll leave you to it.”

Henry asks, “Are you sure you don’t want to do this together?”

His lips brushing against her ear and neck as he says, “we could disembowel him and see what’s really in there.”

Alex cries, “just kill me now.”

“Mr. Milas, we’re getting right to that in just a minute, be patient.”

She turns to see Henry’s face, “He’s my gift to you.”

“Doing this together would be a greater gift.”

“Mr. Milas, are you aware that there are several steps in the process of slaughtering a pig? The first of which is killing said pig. Where Mireille and I differ is that I am not humane. I will not kill you, then bleed you. I want to take a look inside first.”

She has the full intention of watching Henry kill Alex, cut into him navel to sternum. One thing is knowing Henry is a predator; it is another thing entirely to see him in all his glory.  She wants to see Henry at work.

She tries to step back but Henry says, “stay there.”

He moves his head from her right side to her left while placing his left hand around her waist. Pressing them together.

Henry guides the knife that Mireille is still holding towards Mr. Milas’ groin.

“The key here is to cut into him enough to get into the skin but not pierce the intestines.”  

They tear into his skin with gusto. At that moment she can’t hear Alex’s screams. She can only hear her rapid heartbeat.

“Now we go in.”

“I’d rather you did it, so you can tell me what we’re looking at.”

He takes his hand off her waist and off the knife. Alex is still alive staring in horror as Henry’s gloved hand disappears into him.

She looks at Alex, as he screams and cries in horror when he sees his own intestines. Henry is careful in pulling them out without puncturing them.

Mireille, turns to her left and says, “can we bleed him now?”

“Yes, if that’s what you wish.”

They move together, Henry’s hand on Mireille’s as they take up the knife once again.

They cut into Alex’s neck and Mireille is splashed in arterial spray. She hears Alex’s gurgling. She is overwhelmed by a feeling of glee; she hasn’t felt this way in years.

They watch in silence, taking it all in, until Alex’s eyes are void of life.

She turns to Henry, “I’m covered in blood and you hardly have any on you.”

Taking her hand off of the knife she runs her index and middle finger along the side of Henry’s face leaving blood smeared on it, marking him.

Henry offers, “You were so gracious with my gift, I’ll clean up.”

“Thank you.” She speaks into his mouth.

Pulling back she continues, “I’ll leave these here.” Gesturing at her blood drenched clothes.

“I know how you feel about me running around in my underwear but this is the most pragmatic choice, rather than trailing his DNA everywhere.”

She leaves the clothing in a pile on the floor and goes upstairs to shower.

She walks over to Ben’s office to watch Henry cleaning up through the surveillance cameras. She stops cold when she sees Ben’s face; and he’s pale watching in horror as Henry processes Alex’s body.

He turns and looks at her, and at that moment she sees herself objectively. She sees herself through Ben’s eyes; she’s blood splattered. She could have bathed in bleach but, it doesn’t change the fact that she’s covered in it. Her feeling of glee is gone. Sure, she was sent to kill Alex against her will, but does it make a difference?

No one forced her to torture Alex: no one forced her to enjoy it. This is her, and Ben sees her. She’s a cold blooded murderer.

“Ben, if Henry asks tell him I went out.”

She hurries out of the room before Ben can see the tears in her eyes. She takes a bottle of Bourbon as she leaves.


	9. Unfit for Judgment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night out and the inevitable aftermath. 
> 
> “A person is, among all else, a material thing, easily torn and not easily mended.”  
> ― Ian McEwan, Atonement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to (Mama) No2Camels the beta extraordinaire. Staggy and Suzie, Thank you! You touch my heart and nurture it and I can't say how thankful I am to have met such great/ amazing/ strong/ women. I love you, I love you, I love you. Thank you to all of usual suspects because your support means a lot.

 

Chapter Nine 

Unfit for Judgment 

"Good morning.”

“Good morning, Benji.”

“I made you coffee, dear.”

“Thank you.”

“Speaking of thank you, I’m thinking we should go out tonight.”

"No, thank you.”

“Why are you so quick to say no? I’m a fun going-out buddy, plus I’m going to be your sober bitch tonight.”

“What?”

“Baby, we’re going to get you laid tonight! “

“No.”

“When was the last time you got laid? You know what, don’t tell me. I don’t want to hear tales of the young and the restless.”

“Fuck you!”

“No babe, fuck you!”

Ben shouts, “when was the last time you got laid Mireille?” as Henry walks into the kitchen.

Ben mouths “sorry” Mireille throws pointy looks his way.

“Good morning.”

“Hey Henry, Benji and I are going out tonight. Wanna come along?”

“No thank you. I’ll sit this one out, I think I have a good idea what the outing is about.”

“Benji is so crass isn’t he? Your choice though. You’re more than welcome to come along. We can tell people you’re my sugar daddy.”

 

The night was a whirlwind. They are now on the car ride home, at 2 A.M.

“You realize that Henry is going to murder me when he sees the pitiful state that you are in.”

“I do not feel pitiful; I feel great.”

“You’re rolling, wait until tomorrow. Had I known you were going to go out of your mind, I would have brought Henry along.”

“Liar.”

“You’re right, I’m happy you had a good time. Was your prostate properly pounded?”

“I can proudly say I pounded the fuck out of his prostate.”

“Oh shit Benji, I never figured you were topping.”

“I’m full of surprises. Thank you for the condoms by the way.”

“No problem Benji. I want to make sure my cupcake is safe out there.”

“Shut up.”

“You know you love it.”

“We’re here.”

“If at all possible Benji, let me do the talking. The less you talk the easier it will be to get through this.”

“Sure thing boss.”

“I’m serious.”

“Got it.”

She helps him into the house as Henry was on his way upstairs. He turns back to take in the view.

Benji giggles and says, “Hi Henry, I had a great time.”

Mireille can only look at Benji with a stern look.

"What?”

“Nothing sweetheart. I’m tucking you in tonight.”

“Thanks Mir, no one’s ever done that for me.”

“My pleasure.”

She goes up stairs with him his arm around her shoulder as she pulls him up to make sure he doesn’t stumble. The fact that his body is the equivalent of gelatin makes the feat even harder as he is uncooperative due to his euphoria.

She helps him get ready for bed and kisses him on the forehead.

“I love you. Get rest you need it.”

“I love you too.”

“Thank you.”

Mireille goes downstairs to pour herself a glass of bourbon. She finds going to sleep is easier with it. She finds Henry waiting for her in the kitchen, looking at her sternly.

“You seem like you have something to say.”

“Are you on a mission to make him just like you?”

“And how exactly am I?”

“A lush.”

“Right. Well this lush kept her word and kept dry.”

“All the good that did. Look at the state the boy came back in.”

“Hold up. He found Molly on his own. I was there to make sure he was safe, not to decide his life for him.”

“I can see where you would think that would be a good decision given your poor choices. He is brilliant but dependent on stability. We can’t upset his life this way.”

“He is a grown man in need of company not made up of a father figure and a lush as his older sister.” 

“He sees you as a mother.”

She is stunned into silence.

“Don’t mess with his stability this way; he’s worked hard for it.”

“I wouldn’t sabotage him that way.” 

“You sabotage yourself that way all the time. Why would I expect him to be any different? You are unfit to take care of yourself. The fact that you think that you could take care of him is amusing.”

She is so angry she can feel pressure in her chest. She is betrayed only by the blush on her cheeks. She smiles and walks away.

“I am not done Mireille.”

“But I am.”

She takes the car keys and leaves.

 

 " _Can you control how scary you can be?”_ Drink.

 _“Mireille I love you but you scare me.”_ Drink.

 _“You almost killed him.”_ Drink.

 _“How can you enjoy doing something so awful?”_ Drink.

 

She makes it home in a drunken stupor and begins her slow crawl up the stairs. Sometimes she even makes it up to her room. This has now become the norm for Henry or Ben to pick her up off of the stairs and take her to her room. She used to bother asking how she got there, now she doesn’t even ask because she doesn’t care.

This particular night, she makes it home only to black out before she makes it to her room.

 

_“Mireille please don’t hurt him.”_

_“Janey, seriously after what he did to you. You’re lucky I don’t kill him.”_

_“I know you’d do it. Please control yourself!”_

_“He hit you.”_

_“Please control your impulses, you scare me when you get like this.”_

_“I scare you?!?”_

_“Yes… I didn’t mean. Please stay.”_

 

Henry finds her choking on her own vomit. He flips her to her side. She wakes up unaware of who is helping her.

She vomits. “Thank you Benji, you’re an angel. Don’t let Henry see me like this.”

To which he replies, “Don’t worry about him.”

She says, “unfit,” and laughs.

He picks her up and takes her to her room. “Stay, stay until I fall asleep.”

He is silent and sits up on her bed next to her as she drifts off to sleep again.

 

_“What did you give me?”_

_“Sodium Amytal.”_

_“What is that for?”_

_“It is crudely called truth serum.”_

_“What do I need that for?”_

_“I need you to answer truthfully.”_

_“About what?”_

_“About Mireille.”_

_“Please don’t make me.”_

 

“It’s my fault, it’s my fault, it’s My FAULT, IT’S MY FAULT, IT’S MY FAULT! IT’S MY FAULT!

Henry softly strokes her arm to get her to wake up. She screams in fear and awakens abruptly scrambling to the corner of the room.

“Birch  _Street_ , Higgins Drive, Cobalt Lane… Birch  _Street_ , Higgins Drive, Cobalt Lane… Birch  _Street_ , Higgins Drive, Cobalt Lane… Birch  _Street_ , Higgins Drive, Cobalt Lane.”

“Mireille, it is 5:00 in the morning and you are home.”

 

“I am home

 I am home

 I am home.”

 

“Breathe Mireille, breathe in slowly and exhale slowly. Look at me.”

She shakes her head no.

“Look at me. How long have you been having these episodes?”

“The whole time I’ve been here. Recently they’ve become more frequent.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What for? You know if I’m fall down drunk that doesn’t count as consent.”

“Nothing happened, you asked me to stay until you fell asleep.  You almost choked to death in your sleep.”

"You should have let me.”

“We’re not done with this subject.”

He stands up and leaves the room.

She takes a shower and goes downstairs to make coffee. Ben walks in and is surprised to find her there.

“Good morning, Benji.”

“Good morning Mir, you’re up so early.” 

“Early bird gets the worm.”

Henry walks in and she can tell by his demeanor that this is all business. He carries files in his hands.

As a result of job after job, the next couple of months are a haze of alcohol and men. She can no longer distinguish them. In this love affair with men and alcohol and her constant flirtation with death she finds that she’s lost time.


	10. Recipe for disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She loses time due to her alcohol induced stupor. Something happens in this chapter that I am uncomfortable with (I know, yes, this is the person that wrote disembowelment of a living person). I must say I do not take this lightly it is not something I condone. It does however accurately depict just just how low she's fallen.
> 
>  
> 
> “I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom.”  
> ― Edgar Allan Poe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beta no2camels. Thank you Suzie -- sweetheart extraordinaire, Staggy -- bad ass extraordinaire, Doc -- all around extraordinaire in all you do babe. Thank you to my lil sis and all of the wonderful women I'm blessed to have in my life.

Chapter Ten:  
Recipe for Disaster

  
Mr. Jim Beam: Old Fashioned  
1 scant teaspoon simple syrup  
2 dashes Angostura Bitters, plus more to taste  
1 half dollar–sized slice orange peel, including pith  
2 ounces good-quality rye or bourbon  
1 maraschino cherry

Add a hint of deceit by framing a guilty party for a murder you committed. Practically gift wrap the crime scene for the police. They won’t dig too deep if it seems plausible.

Mr. Jack Daniels: Whiskey Sour  
3/4 cup Jack Daniel's Tennessee Whiskey  
1/2 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice (3 lemons)  
1/2 cup freshly squeezed lime juice (4 limes)  
2/3 cup sugar syrup  
Maraschino cherries

Add a hint of cruelty by processing your mark while he’s still alive; pulling out his teeth and cutting off his fingers. Make sure to tell him the reason this is being done is to cause maximum pain and so that the body can’t be identified.

Mr. Jameson: Irish Car Bomb  
1/4 oz. Irish whiskey  
1 Pint Irish stout  
1/4 oz. Coffee liqueur  
1/2 oz. Irish cream

Add a hint of insanity and a dash of disdain. This one hit her the hardest. Her parents died in a car accident so engineering a fiery wreck gave her a pain in the pit of her stomach. She thought, “you can’t get any lower than this.”

Mr. Evan Williams: High Ball  
2 oz. Bourbon  
Ginger Ale  
Club Soda  
Lemon Wedge

Add a hint of lust with a gaudy signet ring and an almost quickie in the bathroom that gets ruined because the guy just won’t shut up. She knocks him unconscious and leaves him lying on the bathroom floor.

The end result of her love affair with these men is the same as the end of a night drinking; a profound emptiness.

She arrives home and finds Henry drinking alone in the living room, lost in thought looking into the flames of the fire place. She sits down on the floor next to him and holds on to his leg.

He looks down at her, but says nothing. He gently strokes the top of her head as she leans into his hand. She hates herself for needing this.

She asks him, “Papa Hen, I need a favor. You told me to come to you if I needed something and I need something.

“What do you need?”

“I need you to get me a morning after pill I was… irresponsible. This is the worst case scenario for any child to be born into.”

He states, “I will do as you ask. You are right this is not a situation fit for a child; furthermore, be more responsible with yourself that goes for the drinking and smoking. It would be bad for the project if you fell ill.”

She continues leaning on him her eyes are brimming with tears. She’s thankful that he can’t see that.

Not letting her anger show, she answers him with a calm tone, “I will take that into consideration the next time I have urges.” She starts to get up and stops when he begins to speak, she sits back down.

“Don’t leave now. The conversation just got interesting; you were talking about urges…”

“Seems like we’re playing a very sick game.”

“I’ve been forthcoming about everything.”

“Oh Henry, you know that’s an outright lie. Don’t lie to me. You know exactly what’s going on here. It surprises me that out of everything my sex life is what you have the biggest issue with!”

She discretely wipes her tears and gets up.

“I didn’t volunteer to do this. As a matter of fact I never signed up for anything.”

“We are serving a purpose. In this case, it serves our needs as well as the greater good.”

“I am here against my will. That has not changed.”

“Their greed and violence destroys society; our violence preserves it. We contain the sickness from spreading.”

“What about our sickness? What the fuck are we, Henry?”

“We are justice.”

She laughs, “Did you get permission from God to call yourself that? Do you really believe that, or do you tell yourself that to make yourself feel better?”

“I don’t feel any remorse in my actions. In the grand scheme of the universe we are insignificant. In our actions we are exponentially great.”

“We are not justice Henry. We are a bunch of fuck ups with killer instincts, led by a man with a God complex.”

“Those are rather simplistic views of what we accomplish here. We are so much more than that.”

“You’re entrusting an alcoholic to carry out these tasks.” She laughs, “All of this shit is going to come tumbling down.”

She stumbles getting up, braces herself on the armrests of the chair. She looks him in the eye, “I will not allow this situation to go on forever.” She leans in and kisses him on the cheek. “Good night.”

She walks away knowing the sting of rejection hurts him as much as her treacherous heart hurts her.

As she is stumbling up the stairs Ben looks on, concerned. He helps her get upstairs. Once at the door of her room, he says, “Why do you feel it necessary to goad him like that?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean, you know how he feels about you. So, you go out of your way to act out. I don’t want to burst your bubble; I did the background check on you. I know who you are, stop lying like this.”

“You don’t say a fucking word, ever, and this is what you have to say! Stand up for Papa Hen… poor fucking Henry. I am such a monster.” She whispers, “are you his fucking patron saint? You have a lot of fucking nerve telling me about myself, what about you?”

She pushes him, “You are a coward! What a waste of intelligence.”

She pushes him into the wall, “Why are you still here?”

She turns toward her room.

“Janine, would be disappointed in you living your life this way.”

She turns from her door, “what did you say?”

She heard him perfectly well.

And when he starts to say the name once again she pounces on him punching him in the face repeatedly. He only shields himself.

"YOU DON’T FUCKING SAY HER NAME! DO YOU HEAR ME?” He nods nervously; and she lets him go.

He says, “For whatever its worth, I’m sorry.”

Dead pan she says, “Get out of my sight.”

_“WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?”_

_“Geez Janey, take a fucking chill pill. You didn’t want me to touch him, I didn’t touch him.”_

_“What did you do?”_

_“I just can’t say that his car got out unscathed.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“I think he’ll be on foot for the foreseeable future.”_

_“Did you mess with his brakes?”_

_“You seriously think I’m a monster. I did nothing that sinister. Well, nothing that will kill him.”_

_“What exactly, tell me!”_

_“Slit his tires, poured water and sugar down his gas tank, oh, and took a bat to his windows. See it wasn’t that bad.”_

_“Why do you do these things?”_

_“Really? He hits you and puts you in the hospital, and I’m the one getting shit. In-fucking-credible. Why are we still even friends? Am I your charity case?”_

She is greeted in the morning by a bucketful of cold water splashing on her face. “Its noon and your still in bed get up or you get another bucketful.”

“Fuck, I heard you the first time. I will be up in a minute.”

“Nobody told you to drink yourself into oblivion, get going.” She sits up at the side of the bed, and she feels as if her brain is throbbing inside her skull.

She is handed aspirin and water, “We need to talk?”

“What about?”

“About yesterday”

“What about it? The job was done, and now there’s another orphan in the world. You should be pleased.”

“Here are your morning after pills. Your pills aren’t the topic of discussion.”

“Then, what is the topic of discussion?” As she opens the packet.

“What you did to Ben.”

“What did I do to Baby Ben?”

“You hit him."

“I hit him?”

“I understand these are unusual circumstances, but we do adhere to having a modicum of respect for each other.”

“Respect, really?”

“Yes. We endeavor to do so. He is not violent. There’s no reason for him to get caught in the middle of us.”

“How quaint. When I kidnap you and murder your loved ones and force you to be a murderer, then we can discuss our endeavors towards respect.”

“We are saving lives.”

“I save no one.”

“Please apologize to him.”

“Are you going to make me?”

“No, I’m requesting it, when you see him you will know why.”

As she goes downstairs, she sees baby Ben stepping out of the kitchen, and when she looks at his face, she swallows hard, he looks horrible. He looks like a domestic abuse victim.

She is no stranger to acts of violence, but it has never occurred in this fashion, towards someone undeserving of it and unwilling to fight back.

She’s tries to get close to him, but he flinches away from her. Overwhelmed with emotion, “I’m sorry I did that to you.” She goes back upstairs to hide. She can’t take the hurt look in his eyes or her guilty conscience. She cries; she is a monster.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cocktail recipes
> 
> Old fashioned  
> http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/old-fashioned-235804
> 
> Whiskey sour  
> http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/ina-garten/fresh-whiskey-sours-recipe.html
> 
> irish car bomb  
> https://www.google.com/webhp?sourceid=chrome-instant&ion=1&espv=2&ie=UTF-8#q=irish+car+bomb+recipe
> 
> High Ball  
> http://evanwilliams.com/recipes.php  
> Please drink responsibly.


	11. Losing my Religion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inconvenient truths are discussed and wounds reopened.
> 
> “There's truths you have to grow into.”  
> ― H.G. Wells, Love and Mr. Lewisham

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's almost to the end. Thank you to my beta the lovely, wonderful, amazing no2camels. If there is anything in the fic someone enjoys it's thanks to her. Thank you to all of the people that encourage me on a daily basis. I adore you I think you already know this. If you don't I'm telling you again and again. 
> 
>  

Chapter Eleven 

Losing my Religion

 

_Splat, you can hear the crunch under her foot._

_“You orphan bitch! What a freak.”_

_“It fell out of its nest, it was more humane to put it out of its misery than to let it die that way. In pain.”_

_“Are you sure your parents died in a car accident. You sure you didn’t show them how humane you are?”_

_“What did you say?”_

_“Mir, he’s an asshole let’s go. Pay him no attention.”_

_“Yeah, Mir pay me no attention. Murderous crazy psycho bitch.”_

_“Mireille, no!”_

_It’s too late she’s already tackled the kid to the ground. They tussle and he backhands her in the mouth. He pins her down and splits in her face. She goes limp underneath him. The boy turns to his friends to gloat when she manages to knee him in the groin._

_Now she is on top of him, unleashing an unrelenting punishment of blows coming at him with fury unheard of from a fourteen-year-old girl. She hears her name called in the background…_

_“Mireille stop, STOP, PLEASE STOP! You’ll kill him.”_

_She freezes. He’s barely conscious, and his eyes are swollen shut. She lost track of time. Who knows how long she was beating him for? She doesn’t._

_Janey tells the boy, “Tell your parents a boy did this to you unless you want to live through the embarrassment of getting your ass handed to you by a girl.”_

_She looks at Janey. Janey looks at her with a look of utter horror and heartbreak. She feels ashamed and wounded by the look in Janey’s eyes._

 

She wakes up early to make her pilgrimage to the bar. Heading out taking the car keys before anyone had a chance to question her or even see her, for that matter. Janey was her childhood friend, her sister. She would have been 32 years old. The drinking today is not to forget, but to mourn; for Janey, for herself.

Baby Ben calls her, and she ignores the calls. He texts her, “ _Henry is going ballistic, please answer.”_

She calls him back.

“Hello baby Ben.”

“Mireille where are you? You’ve been gone for hours.”

“I’m at a bar.”

“Where?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“How drunk are you?”

“Very.”

“I’m coming to get you.”

“That’s not necessary I can drive or find a way home?”

“Absolutely not. You know Henry will kill whoever brings you home, right?”

“You’re right.”

“I’m going to get you.”

“OK. Benji, leave Papa Hen at home. Don’t bring him here.”

When Benjamin arrives at the bar, Mireille is in such a poor state she can hardly stand. He has to help her get in the car and buckle her seat belt for her.

As he starts the car, she says, “Benji, you know I love you right.”

“I know you do, in your own way. Why do you do this to yourself. It’s painful to watch.”

“I’m not myself, not the self I know or thought myself to be. I am other.”

She opens her pack of cigarettes and lights one in the car. Ben buys her some coffee in an attempt to sober her up. She sends Henry a text that she will be home in 30 minutes, giving her time to make sure that she appears composed.

“Mireille, I wonder what you were like as a child.”

“I wasn’t always like this. I was decent once. I had hope. Did I ever tell you I killed a baby bird?

“No, geez.”

“It fell out of the nest, and a cat got to it but didn’t kill it. I euthanized it. There are times when the best course of action is also the most painful.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“The expression on your face after we killed Alex, and the look on your face after I hit you remind me of the look on Janey’s face after the bird incident. I know she loved me, but she was also afraid of me. I felt it, knew it as I’m certain that I breathe. As much as I loved her, that love was accompanied by shame.”

“Just…stop. He was going to kill you. He was a menace. Anyone would’ve felt sick watching Henry wade through the viscera after the anatomy lesson he gave you.”

“I enjoyed torturing him Benji. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. I felt avenged and satisfied.”

“Then why are trying to drink yourself into a coma?”

“What alternative do I have? This is the best version of myself I can muster in this situation. There’s no turning back. The past is gone. My future…”

When she gets home she heads towards Henry’s office. Ben tells her, “Henry’s in a bad mood, wait until tomorrow. Don’t go in there.”

He tries to stop her from going forward.

“Thank you for being decent Benji.” She hugs him tight and goes into Henry’s office anyway. Ben knows he shouldn’t try to stop her.

She knocks on his door even though it’s halfway open. Henry is going through mail. She eyes the large sword shaped letter opener. She also eyes the bottle of Pappy Van Winkle 20-year reserve on his desk. He’s drinking it as if it were iced tea. He waves her in.

“We need to talk Henry.”

He pulls a small gift box from a drawer in his desk. He pushes it towards her.

“It’s for you.”

She eyes the box and begrudgingly opens it. It’s a pinky finger with an awfully gaudy signet ring.

“If you were going to gift me a body part, you should’ve given me his penis; it was truly a thing of beauty.”

She throws the box at him and starts to walk out. He races across the room. “You have the terrible habit of leaving when the conversation gets interesting.”

She knows what she has to do and a sense of calm washes over her. She’s going to set the whole thing on fire with them in it.

“Were you staking your claim, Henry?”

“I don’t like others touching what’s mine.”

He places his arms around her not letting her get away.

“Just marking your territory.”

“Like you marked me.”

And he kisses her. She tries to get out of his tight hold. She wiggles against him until he finally loosens his arms around her.

Once he lets go, she violently kisses him back, grasps on to him as if this is their last time.

They part to gasp for air. She says in his ear, “the desk, on the desk.”

He lifts her up, she wraps her legs around his waist as he makes his way over to the desk. Once he places her on the desk. She leans back to take in the sight. When he leans in again to kiss her, she opens her mouth and as his tongue slides in she holds the letter opener to his throat.

She laughs.

“That’s why I’m so good, Henry. Sit.”

He retakes his seat at the desk and she places her foot against his groin.

“Down boy.”

“What do you intend on doing?”

“Did you really think it was going to be that easy?”

“Honestly, no. But a man can hope.”

“Nothing wrong with hoping. You know, he honestly thought you were my father…I told him you were deeply in love with me.”

“Did you really say that?”

“It is the truth Henry.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“The way you look at me. Also the fact that you can’t kill me. That’s how sure I am.”

He eyes her from his seat with a firm gaze. Even at a seeming disadvantage, he can always manage to make her feel like he has an ace up his sleeve.

“I told him that the love you have for me wreaks of weakness, and it makes me sick. That you are a pitiful lovesick fool.”

He rises out of the chair violently.

“Oh, he lives.”

He places his hands around her neck.

“There’s a spark in him yet. Would you really do it Henry?” She slaps him.

He tightens his grip on her neck.

“We used to talk about you and laugh.”

Tears start forming in her eyes.

“I will never be yours Henry. I will continue to give myself to anyone and everyone but you.”

He tightens his grip, and she begins to feel lightheaded.

“Are you man enough to do it? Could you?”

“I know what you are doing, and I will not play along in your childish games. I will do no such thing.” And he lets go.

She coughs and struggles for air, “you are selfish.”

“Do you know what you are asking of me.”

“I know exactly what I’m asking of you. Henry, I want you to euthanize me.”

“NO.”

“I’d stopped. You forced me to continue by bringing me here.”

He looks at her with a calm expression on his face. “We are what we are Mireille. Stop berating yourself. No one forced you to enjoy what you did.”

“It was my hand, but it was your voice in my ear. You pushed me.”

“I can’t force you to do something you weren’t capable of doing, that is not the way hypnotic coercion works.”

“I wish I never met you. You are the greatest disaster of my life, worse than the car crash that took my parents from me. Your love is insidious, and it is killing me.”

“I didn’t make you this way Mireille. You were already like this. Are you still in denial about what you are and what happened? Let me remind you then: I didn’t kill Janine. You did. Your mind blocked it out because it was too much for you to handle”. His voice fades his mouth moves but, she can’t hear what he’s saying. The room becomes hazy and she reaches for the floor seeking to escape

_“How do you feel?”_

_“What do you mean how do I feel? You sneak attacked me with a needle… so, let me ask you what is it that you wanted to know that you had to give me Sodium Amytal to get it out of me?”_

_“Mireille we are running an experiment that will be detrimental for how we proceed on intel and law enforcement going forward. We want you to be part of this project, which is why I am here with you today. There’s a chance that we can stop these criminals from continuing their atrocities. There’s a place I’d like to take you.”_

_“Ha, you know there are ‘pros’ that would happily go with you.”_

_“There is a place I want to take you. Either you go willingly or we will take you there anyway. It is your choice how you go.”_

_“I will go. Is this going to take long?”_

_“It depends on you.”_

_“I have to call Janine; she’s expecting me at home.”_

_“You’re not going to call home.”_

_“Geez, grouchy”_

_She is sitting across from Henry in a room with dimmed lights. She can see a flashing light behind him._

_“Henry, this is incredibly weird. You know those lights can cause seizures. I never pictured you as a light show type of guy.”_

_He smirks and asks her, “What drew you to the military and to law enforcement?”_

_“You could have gotten this out of me without drugging me. Are you serious?”_

_“Please indulge me…”_

_“There’s a lot of preamble just to ask this...I don’t have a family. It seemed to me a good way to care for others. Contribute to society in a way that would make the quality of life better.”_

_“War is not easy; neither is law enforcement. What kept you there so long?”_

_“The carnage.”_

_“You mean to prevent the carnage.”_

_“No, I enjoy the carnage. I enjoyed being in the war, the taking down of a guilty man. It is the closest you can get to divine justice in an imperfect world.”_

_“What If I told you there is a way for you to be able to do good in the world in a way that you enjoy.”_

_“I’d say what’s the catch? There’s always a cost to getting what you want.”_

_“No catch. All you need to do is let go of the conventions holding you back. They stifle you don’t they?”_

_“Yes, they do.”_

_“Don’t you wish to have that freedom to act? Cut those chains Mireille.”_

_“Yes…the chains.”_

_“I’m here to nurture your potential Mireille. You are so promising. I want you to be who you are, freely and I encourage you to overcome or remove the obstacles in your way. You can see it can’t you… what is holding you back, or rather, who is holding you back.”_

_She nods._

_“They are holding you back from fulfillment. From performing divine justice with no guilt. What are you going to do about it?”_

_He continues speaking to her. He is her compass ready to guide her…_

_Benjamin pulls Mireille off of Janine. She still has the blade in her hand._

_Henry looks at her as if she were a revelation, “Mireille, my darling girl, you have exceeded all of my expectations. I knew you were capable of violence, but murdering your best friend with the slightest push, you are a vision.”_

_“You, you,” and she runs at him full speed with the full intention of shoving the blade down his throat and making him swallow it. Then, she feels the burn in her chest, no air. Everything is fading. She is writhing on the floor, hyperventilating, desperately trying to breathe. She hears him say, “there are so many things we can do with you yet my dear. I’m so proud.”_

She’s writhing on the floor. Henry is seated next to her on the floor, his hand on her back, telling her “Mireille, Mireille focus. Come back. Come back.” She is able to follow his voice to return, focus and slow her breathing.

She wails and cries making guttural sounds; none comprehensible. Henry, continues to rub her back and coach her breathing. She pushes him, fights him off. Wails uncontrollably. She slaps him repeatedly. He doesn’t even try to stop her. He takes it.

Her sobbing begins to subside and she is able to squeak out. “You didn’t ask the right questions.”

Henry, looks at her as if it’s the first time he’s seen her and moves away from her.

“You never asked me why I left… I’ve robbed people of a future.”

She breathes in, tears in her eyes in equal measure for him as for herself.

“I knew what you were and still allowed myself to become attached to you.”

He looks at her as if he’s realizing for the first time the depth of her feeling.

“I know you don’t intend on killing me.”

“You made damn sure of that.”

She continues to cry out at what she’s done. She makes her way over to the desk and takes the letter opener.

Ben runs into the room to check in on her.

“Henry, you told me that you found my unraveling immensely entertaining. You’ll love this.”

She stabs herself in the stomach and pulls the letter opener sideways making a horizontal slit in her abdomen. Pulling out the letter opener from her abdomen, she soaks her clothes in blood. She falls to her knees.

Ben says, “I can help you,”  she shakes her head no as she falls to the floor.


	12. Reckoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end. 
> 
> One does not kill oneself for love of a woman, but because love - any love - reveals us in our nakedness, our misery, our vulnerability, our nothingness. - Cesare Pavese

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my lovely beta no2camels. Thank you to everyone that put up with my cranky self for the past couple of months. Staggy, Suzie, Sis, Deb, Doc, Em, Darkling. You inspire me to be better and fearless.

Chapter 12 

Reckoning

 

_Why are you afraid of talking about her?_

_I’d rather not say._

_You won’t be leaving until you talk._

_She scares me._

_Why does she scare you?_

_The way she reacts to things._

_Give me an example…_

_She destroyed my ex boyfriend’s car_

_Why would she do something like that?_

_He hit me._

_So, he hit you, and she wrecked his car. That seems a little extreme._

_He hit me so hard he gave me a concussion. I was in the hospital for two days._

_And you feel that her reaction to you being hospitalized is extreme._

_Yes. She reacts in extremes._

_Has she ever attacked anyone?_

_No, she reacts when provoked. She never sets out to attack anyone._

_And you are scared of her._

_Yes. Someone that can enjoy doing the things that she does is, frankly, terrifying. I’m afraid she’ll kill me one day. She’s unstable and I try to steer her on course._

_So, you think she needs professional help._

_Yes._

_You think her violence is abnormal?_

_The things she enjoys are not normal._

_I’m actually a professional Janine. I think I can help her with that._

_Help her to stop._

_Help her not be ashamed of who she is._

_Wait a minute. You’re her date!_

_Yes, thank you for pushing her and making all of this possible._

_Oh my God._

_Let Mireille in._

_What?_

_Yes, naturally she’s here. And she heard our conversation._

_Mireille, I think it’s time that you free yourself from those chains._

He looks and looks at her after what she did to herself. She resembles a wounded bird; small and fragile. He managed to get to her before any infection could form. He stitched her up. It became clear after the first day that she had retreated into herself. She stayed in bed all day staring out vacantly.

At that point, Henry began caring for her as if she were his patient. He and Ben take turns watching over her. Henry comes in the morning, spoon feeds her breakfast. Day after day, the routine is the same.

He reads to her Nietzsche, Kierkegaard, Voltaire.

He reads it to her in an effort to appeal to her to come out of her interior. To come back to life, to him.

She just stares. The first time he had to bathe her he expected a fight when he took her up in his arms to take her to the tub. She only looked up at him saying nothing. Not cooperating or making his chores more difficult, she just sat there.

At night, Ben watches over her. He sleeps in the bed with her, snuggled against her like a spoon. She remains stiff as a board. No reaction whatsoever.

Ben says to her, “Mireille come back.”          

 

Henry walks in and greets her everyday, “Good morning Mireille. I trust you slept well.”

He spoon-feeds her breakfast.

Today he reads David Herbert Lawrence “Self Pity”

 _…A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough_ _  
without ever having felt sorry for itself._

Today it’s different. He picks her up in his arms with a particular reverence. This is the only time she looks up at him directly, he slows down to look down at her. He maintains eye contact with her until he puts her in the tub. She is fully clothed as he places her in the water. After much deliberation with himself, he's decided to give her what she wanted. He sits her in the tub and pushes down on her torso to submerge her in the water. She doesn’t resist or fight back. She turns her head and looks up at him calmly. She blinks, but maintains eye contact. Bubbles rise to the surface of the water. He places his hands on her chest holding her down. She starts to move, she starts to wiggle, she starts to fight.

She tries to get his hands off of her, and he won’t budge. She’s weak and can’t put up much of a fight. She twists his thumb back making him jolt back as a reflex response. She rises from the water coughing desperately trying to catch her breath.

He sits back, soaking wet, looking at her.

Mireille says, “ _Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster_ …”

Henry cuts her off and looks her in the eye and says, “ _and if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.”_

“Henry…”

“No Mireille, I’ve stood silent far too long…”

“I’ve given you space hoping you would ask for help, waiting for you to have a realization about what is going on here. What I’ve had instead is a first row seat to your demise. While I must admit seeing you in distress excites me, seeing you destroyed does not.”

She looks down, and he waits until she meets his gaze again.

“I know that you are tentative about many things. Had you asked, I would have gladly answered you with the truth. I realize now that you will not ask me so I am going to be forthcoming and offer answers to questions that you have and have not dared to ask.”

At this point her breathing is calm and he has her full attention. The light is back in her eyes.

“The only thing that you are compelled to do is remain here and not kill me. Yes, Mireille I whisper in your ear and guide, but these things that you do were already in you. These are appetites that are already true to you. I can’t make you enjoy torture and murder. I can’t make you do anything against your will.

You are in a unique situation where you are surrounded by people with the same proclivities. Where you will be encouraged and nurtured to be true to yourself.

The truth of the matter is as grotesque as it seems to you, we are your family. You have never felt more yourself and more loved than you’ve felt while you’ve been here. This is your home accept it and stop berating yourself for not feeling bad about it.

You are doing good things here, Mireille. Let go of your hard morality about what is right because in your moral dubiousness you’ve done more good than most.”

He places a hand on her chin tilting it so that she’s eye to eye with him.

“You do not want to die.

Had you wanted to die you would not have used the letter opener on my desk to try and commit Seppuku.

Had you wanted to die you would have cut your throat with it or better yet you would have killed me.”

Her eyes fill with tears.

“In perhaps one of my most unselfish moments, I was going to give you what you wanted. I had the full intention of euthanizing you. You fought back, not as a reflex, but with a fierceness that tells me that not only that you don’t want to die but you want to live.

I am here and I want to help you but, I will not force living on you. You have the following options: remain here, and we will help you get through this; decide you want to leave and I will make sure that you do not remember me, or anything that happened here; or the third you realize you really want me to euthanize you. If you decide on that, I will put a bullet in your head and that will be that.”

“I..”

“I’m not finished. Should you decide to stay I will no longer tolerate self-destructive antics. If you decide to stay, it is because you want to live and you want to be here.

“Take today and think about it. Really think about what you want for your life. You’ve long resented me for not giving you a choice. I’m giving you a choice now. Do not take this lightly. When I bring up your breakfast tomorrow, tell me what you’ve decided.”

She nods in agreement, looking down at the bathroom tiles.

“And Mireille, I did not manipulate you into feeling the way that you feel for me. I cannot coerce you into loving me, you just do.”

He leaves her bedroom.

On his way to the kitchen, Ben looks at him quite concerned because Henry is soaking wet.

Before Ben says anything to him, Henry says, “She’s back. She’s soaking in the tub. I would suggest you give her some space, but you can also go take her a towel.”

Ben nods and heads up stairs.

Henry makes his way to his office.

Mireille is attempting to absorb everything Henry’s just told her. It’s true. All of it is true. As unsavory as it is to her, he is the person who knows her best.

Benji walks into the bathroom holding a towel for her, and the look on his face is that of someone seeing a long lost relative. He bends down and kisses her on the forehead.

“I missed you.”

He breathes in, “please don’t do that again.”

“Henry had a long talk with me.”

“They are revelatory aren’t they? He had one of those with me long ago. I’m sure he gave you a lot to think about. I’m going to give you some space.”

He turns to leave.

“Mireille, I will be back to check up on you later. Whatever he told you to think about, I hope you do so in earnest.”

 

In the afternoon, Ben goes back upstairs to check on Mireille. He opens the door, the bed is made, the window open and the room is empty.

She makes her way down the corridor slowly. She can hear their voices clearly.

She takes a step forward.

_Henry: “How could you allow yourself to be so vulnerable?”_

She takes a step forward.

_Janey: “Can you control how scary you can be?”_

She takes a step forward.

_Henry: “You sabotage yourself that way all the time…”_

She takes a step forward.

_Ben: “For whatever its worth I’m sorry.”_

She takes a step forward.

_Her own voice: “I am not your entertainment, Henry.”_

She takes a step forward.

_Ben: Why do you do this to yourself. It’s painful to watch.”_

She takes a step forward.

 _Henry: “We are the same you and I, that’s why I chose you. The only difference between us is that I embrace what I am and I accept it. You berate yourself for the delight you get in doing what comes natural to you._ ”

She takes a step forward.

_“Mireille, I always tried to save you… it’s your turn to save yourself.”_

She takes a step forward.

 _Ben: “_ _Whatever he told you to think about, I hope you do so in earnest.”_

She takes a step forward and knocks on the door.

Ben is watching her from the foot of the stairs as she walks towards Henry’s office.

Henry’s voice is heard outside the door, “Come in, Ben.”

“It’s not Ben.”

The door opens and Henry looks down at her, “Please come in.”

“We need to talk; I’ve made a decision.”

Henry nods at Benjamin as he closes the door behind Mireille.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mireille and Henry quote Nietzsche to each other.

**Author's Note:**

> I welcome any comments, please be gentle.


End file.
